


All the Best Things

by warbreaker



Category: The Evil Within (Video Game)
Genre: During Canon, F/M, Flashbacks, M/M, Mentions of Suicide, friendship fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2018-04-28 04:33:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5077966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/warbreaker/pseuds/warbreaker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Joseph and Sebastian get separated in the church, Joseph struggles to find the strength to keep going. Fortunately for him, he soon discovers that he's not all alone in the dark; someone who he never expected to find is there to light the way for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All the Best Things

**Author's Note:**

> A commissioned fic for jouact@tumblr and posted at her request. Story titled after the song "All the Best Things" by Rob Thomas.

When Joseph came to, the first thing he noticed was that he was on the floor. The hardwood was cold and dusty beneath him, and that alone was enough to make him grateful that he had his gloves on still; there was nothing quite worse than that feeling of thin-coated dust and dirt caked on his hands and having absolutely no means to wash them.

Well. There _were_ worse things, but the less he thought about them, the better.

All of his muscles ached from lying in one position for too long on an uncomfortable surface, and a low groan of discontent escaped past his lips as he rolled fully onto his back. He could feel his joints cracking pleasantly as he moved, and it was amazing to him just how something so small and simple could make a world of difference.

It was only then that he noticed how much darker the church had become since he'd been knocked unconscious. It had to be nighttime now for sure. No light streamed through the stained glass windows from outside anymore, but the room was still dimly lit by the hundreds of candles that lined the ceiling beams and the rims of the chandeliers. 

That detail struck him as odd. His memory of what had happened was faint and muddy at best, but the one thing that he did distinctly recall was the sound of _cracking_ and _breaking_ and then _crashing_ as the whole room came apart. Soon thereafter, the sound of Sebastian screaming drowned out everything else. It was the last thing Joseph heard before blacking out. He could still hear it now, almost, playing on loop in his head.

Shadows danced along the walls from the flickering candlelight as Joseph reached inside of himself in search of some kind of emotional response to that memory. Quite predictably, he found absolutely nothing. There was only emptiness inside of him, cold and hollow — a black hole at the center of his being that threatened to pull him in and swallow him up. And yet, strangely, he was grateful for it. That cool breeze of nothingness was familiar to him now, and it was a far better alternative to the muted yet urgent impulse to take his own life. This sort of depression didn't make his fingers twitch for his gun or nudge him towards the nearest cliff face to throw himself off.

He couldn't afford to think about that right now, though. Time was a luxury in this place — whatever this place even was — and it was one that hadn't been granted to him. Grunting softly, Joseph dragged himself up into a sitting position, then took a second to regain his balance before climbing to his feet. Not for the first time, he found himself without a weapon. He'd lost his axe back in the bridge explosion, and that monstrous dog-thing had knocked his rifle from his hands. Even still, he couldn't stay here. He'd gotten fairly good at ducking and hiding from those terrible _things_ that populated the place, at least, and that was the best he could hope to do for now.

The light in the church grew dimmer as Joseph headed for the door. Candles blew out into smoke as he passed them, as though some unseen figure was following behind him every step of the way. He tried his best to ignore it, but the hair on the back of his neck stood on end without his permission regardless. Taking a deep breath and swallowing hard, he locked his sights on his goal. As long as he didn't hear any ragged breathing or footsteps, chances were better than not that he was safe for now.

There was only darkness behind him by the time he reached the door of the church. Joseph reached out cautiously, and he pushed against it just barely hard enough to get it to crack open. It was heavy and slow to move, but light spilled in through the crack — though, it was impossible to actually see what lay beyond. One second passed, then another, as he listened for any signs of life or movement. When none came, he steeled his nerves and pushed the door open all the way, stepping outside as quickly as possible.

His jaw nearly hit the floor.

This wasn't the courtyard leading up to the church. In fact, this wasn't even anywhere outside at all. Some way, somehow, Joseph found himself standing in the living room of his own apartment.

Everything was exactly as he remembered it — from the placement of the furniture to the titles of the books in the case on the far right wall. Had he snapped? Was he crazy? There was no way he could possibly be home, and yet…

He took another step inside, but he was stopped in his tracks before he could go any further — by himself. Almost quite literally, there was an image of himself standing before him, but it was by no means a perfect mirror. It was desaturated and unstable, like the visual representation of radio interference. More than that, it didn't reflect him as he was right now. Rather, it was a younger version of himself — one from years ago, one that he barely recognized. This image of him looked so undeniably _happy,_ and that wasn't a word that Joseph would have ever thought to use in reference to himself.

A second later, he saw why. He stepped to the side reflexively as another translucent figure passed through him, this one much smaller and gunning for his younger self. His image scooped up Lily in his arms and held her at his hip as images of Sebastian and Myra stepped into view.

"Be gentle with Uncle Joseph this weekend," Myra said to her daughter. "We do still need him back at work."

She turned her attention to the image of Joseph then, looking serious.

"And no monster movies," she warned.

"Aw," Lily protested. "Please, mom? Just one?"

"Yeah, mom," Joseph's younger self said. His eyes were shining with amusement. "Please?"

"No," Myra insisted. "I'm not putting up with another week of nightmares."

"It wasn't a week!" Lily argued.

To Myra's left, Sebastian chuckled softly to himself. He looked at Lily, then at Joseph's image, and then back to Lily again.

"I'm sure that Uncle Joseph is strong enough to fight off any monsters that might show up after the movie's over," he said.

"Yeah!" Lily agreed.

Myra gave a frustrated sigh, and then all four phantoms disappeared from sight.

It was all Joseph could do to stare. The beige carpet beneath his feet acted like velcro attached to the soles of his shoes; even if he wanted to move or leave, he couldn't. Was this place actually reading his mind? Feeding off of his memories, only to spit them right back out at him? The weight of it all was too much for him to shoulder at once, and he leaned back against the wall behind him for support. Hearing Myra and Lily's voices again, seeing their faces… Was this what Sebastian had been dealing with during their times apart?

"Sebastian… Whose blood is that?"

It was Joseph's own voice coming from elsewhere in the apartment. Behind him, actually — maybe in the kitchen. Slowly, carefully, Joseph pushed himself away from the wall, and, with heavy feet, found his way to the entrance of his kitchen.

A specter of Sebastian was at the sink washing his hands, and Joseph's younger doppelganger impatiently paced the floor behind him, though he never moved too far in any one direction.

"Don't worry about that," Sebastian said. "Go look through that folder I brought with me. On the table. I finally have it, Joseph. Proof. Real proof."

_No._

Joseph wanted to stop this, wanted to wave the ghosts away, wanted to look away from what he was seeing — but he had no strength. The shame that washed over him was strong enough to keep him anchored down to that very spot, and no matter how low his mood dipped, how much his throat swelled, or how much nervous energy built up inside of him, nothing changed. He was forced to watch this play out all over again. He could feel himself screaming on the inside.

His younger self shook his head, and Joseph could see the agony on his own face. The phantom then took a deep breath, straightened his posture, and turned towards Sebastian.

"No," the doppelganger said. "I'm sorry, Seb, but I can't do this anymore."

Sebastian closed the tap and turned towards him slowly. The confusion and betrayal on his face was so much easier to see now than it had been in the moment.

"What?" he asked incredulously. "Can't do _what_ anymore?"

" _This,_ Sebastian," Young Joseph said with a wide-sweeping gesture. "All of it. You coming to my house unannounced with blood on your hands. Your crazy ideas and theories about big business and government out to get you. This _obsession_ you have with finding someone to blame for what happened, even if you have to make them up! It's like I don't even know who you are anymore."

It had felt so good to let that all out back then, but listening to it now made Joseph want to scream and rush in there to kick his own ass. It made him sick to his fucking stomach to watch himself completely dismiss Sebastian like that. Christ, he hadn't even been gentle about it. He'd been so riled up at the time that he hadn't noticed, but at the distance he stood now, it was impossible not to catch the way Sebastian's expression changed. He looked like an abused animal, scared and small and hopeless as the realization dawned on him that he'd been abandoned by his owner.

"What the _fuck,_ Joseph?" he asked. His tone was so calm it was frightening. "I thought you had my back."

"I _do_ have your back, Sebastian," Joseph's younger self said. "In fact, I'm the only one who still does! But, Seb — _there is no conspiracy against you and your family._ You need to accept that and move on with your life. What you're doing — it's not healthy, and now people are getting hurt. Real people. I can't be a part of something like this. I _won't._ I refuse to enable this kind of behavior."

"We were supposed to be partners," Sebastian said, sounding defeated.

"We _are_ partners, Seb," Young Joseph said. "Just… not in this."

The scene ended. The images disappeared. And Joseph felt drained and empty inside. In that moment, he found himself wondering why Sebastian had even bothered taking the revolver away from him earlier. His hands were trembling as he reached up to pull his glasses off of his face, and his body was working strictly on autopilot as he wandered back into the living room and collapsed onto the couch.

"I was so angry with him then…" Joseph said quietly to himself.

'Angry' was an understatement. He'd been _furious_ with Sebastian back then, because Sebastian couldn't see that he was hurting, too. He'd lost the people he loved, too. And the ugly truth of it was that Joseph didn't _want_ him to be right about his conspiracies. If he was right, then that meant that Joseph would lose _him_ eventually, too.

"And then I lost him anyway," he concluded aloud. "Or… maybe he lost me."

 _What else is there?_ Sebastian's words echoed in his head. _I need my partner here._

He sighed and leaned back against the cushions of the couch before slipping his glasses back over his ears. Back when this had all happened, he told himself that what he was doing was for Sebastian's sake. Distancing himself, reporting him to IA — it was all so that Sebastian could get the help he needed and start to heal. Such an elaborate lie. It was really all for himself. Joseph had done it for his own sake, because he wasn't just scared, then. He'd been _terrified._

" _Mrow._ "

Joseph jumped in his seat, startled. He hadn't seen it before, but a black cat sat atop his coffee table, staring at him with red eyes. Where the hell had it come from? How long had it been there? For a moment, he thought that another memory was about to gear up, this time starring Hina, but that wasn't his cat on the table. Hina's eyes were white, for one. Aside from that, this cat seemed to exist too solidly in reality to be a memory.

"Hey, princess," Joseph said gently, leaning forward. "Are you lost?"

The cat meowed at him again and plopped down onto the floor before darting out of the apartment completely. Joseph followed it with his eyes as it went, and when he turned his attention back towards the table, he found that his new cat friend had left a present for him. His M1911 was waiting for him in seemingly perfect condition, and a quick check of the magazine showed that the clip was fully loaded and ready to be fired.

If that wasn't a sign to keep going, then he didn't know what was. Joseph loaded the weapon and made sure that there was a round in the chamber, then rose to his feet and tucked the gun away into his holster. He took a deep breath. Then another. And when he felt strong enough, he left the apartment.

Once again, the door opened to a whole new area. This one, however, he didn't recognize. It appeared to be some sort of a reception area, dimly lit and accented with the ticking of a grandfather clock. The most unusual thing in it, however, was the nurse sitting behind the desk. What stood out about her as strange was how normal she looked. Dark hair, dark eyes, fair skin, clean uniform, red sweater — she wasn't one of those corrupted _things_ that Joseph had been fighting back and against this whole time. She looked up at him as he stepped fully into the room, though her eyes were expressionless behind the wire frame of her glasses.

"You've been expected," she said placidly.

The sentiment came as such a shock that Joseph physically recoiled. He shook his head and wrinkled his brow in confusion, trying to make heads or tails of what he'd just heard.

"Forgive me for asking," he finally managed to say, "but where am I, exactly?"

Either the nurse didn't hear him or she just didn't care, but she seemed to have absolutely no intention of answering him. She simply rose to her feet and opened the door that led behind her desk.

"This way, please," she said.

Joseph hesitated. Of all the things he'd experienced since stepping foot into Beacon Hospital, this was probably the most bizarre — and that was really saying something. On the one hand, this could very well be a trap. On the other, what choice did he really have?

The clock did its duty to mark every second that passed as Joseph considered his lack of options. The nurse was impossibly patient, holding her ground and staring at him with an empty expression. Eventually, Joseph stepped forward, feeling defeated.

The nurse led him behind her desk and through another door into the back room. It was just as poorly lit back here as it'd been out front, but the area was at least double the size. Work stations lay abandoned as Joseph passed them — desks in disarray, each housing outdated computers and littered with paperwork and other refuse. It didn't appear as though anyone had actually worked here in quite some time.

Their destination was a much better-lit conference room. A large oak table was at the middle, warm and inviting under the yellow ceiling lamp. Filing cabinets lined three of the walls, and the fourth sported an impressive-looking map of Krimson City, though some of the pieces seemed to be missing.

"You should find this useful," the nurse said.

She motioned towards the table, and when Joseph looked at it again, he noticed a folder that most definitely had not been there a moment ago. He eyed it warily, but when he turned back to the nurse to ask her about it, she was already gone. Scowling and sighing, he did the only thing he could: take a seat.

The folder was labeled "CLASSIFIED" and, at a cursory glance at the contents, Joseph couldn't quite determine why. It seemed to just be a random assortment of newspaper clippings — some old, some newer — as well as a stack of missing persons flyers. If there was any sort of connection there between any of these things, Joseph couldn't see them — at first. But as he started to arrange things in chronological order and take a closer look at the recurring names and themes, everything seemed to click into place. The church, the Victoriano family, the hospital, the KCPD, Myra's disappearance —

_Myra._

The very last thing in the folder was a letter written from Myra to Sebastian before her disappearance but sent somehow after the fact. Joseph's heart sank into his gut as he read it, and the full picture finally came into focus. This was the trail that Sebastian had been following all this time.

"This was what he wanted to show me that day," Joseph said softly to no one in particular. "His proof. Oh, God, Seb… I'm so sorry. I should have listened."

Looking at it all in front of him, he felt so stupid and selfish for not having seen it earlier. How willfully blind had he had to have been? How could he ever make something like this right?

Well. Better late than never, he supposed. He couldn't give up and die here in this place, now that he knew this. Sebastian said that he needed his partner, and Joseph would be damned if he was going to abandon him now. He couldn't go back in time and undo the damage he'd caused between them, but he could at the very least stand up now and be the support that Sebastian had wanted and needed all this time. And even outside of all that, Joseph knew that he had to live at least long enough to apologize.

But something about this was still bothering him. Now that he was looking at the situation with open eyes, something about it didn't add up. Up until this point, it felt like he was being led by someone — like this was an elaborate torture chamber set up and run by an intelligent being. What would that person have to gain by giving him a weapon and arming him with the knowledge he needed to keep moving forward?

And then it hit him. There was more than one person's influence at work here. Joseph looked up from the files on the table and glanced around the room, though he found nothing out of place.

"Myra…" he said. "You're in here somewhere, aren't you?" 

He took a deep breath and nodded, feeling firm in his conviction.

"Don't worry. I'll bring him home."

**Author's Note:**

> Liked the fic? You can find all of my commission info [here.](http://augur-of-ebrietas.tumblr.com/post/128223104807/opening-writing-commissions)
> 
> Other than that, despite this being a commission, I'm very much open to feedback about this and constructive criticism. Thank you for reading!


End file.
